He thought for a moment and then went on. “I’ve heard your father speak of your childhood. It was the same then. He talked of you winning all the footraces, the wrestling matches, the spear throwing, as well as the swordplay. You crushed all those other youngsters, never losing. You can admire a man who constantly defeats you. Rare to like him, though.”
“Hektor is liked,” Achilles argued.
“Ah, you have me there. When I arrived tonight, two soldiers escorted me to your presence. Who were they?”
“I did not notice.”
“Hektor would have. He would also have told me, if asked, the names of their wives and children.”
“That is clever of him,” Achilles agreed.
“True, but he doesn’t do it because it’s clever. He does it because he cares. And that is why his men love him.”
“I hear in your voice that you are fond of him, too.”
“Yes, I am. It is a tragedy to be his enemy. But I didn’t choose to be.”
“It seems to me that you are a good judge of men, Odysseus.”
“And of women, which—if we are not careful—will bring us back to talking of your sister. So now, since the dawn is rising, I am going to take to my bed.”
“Will you answer one question before you go?”
“It depends on the question,” Odysseus replied.
“Why do you dislike my father?”
“I will avoid that path, Achilles. No man should seek to come between a father and his son. You are a fine young man, and you have a good mind, so I will offer you some advice. Trust your instincts and base judgments on what your heart tells you. The heart will not betray you, Achilles.”
As the months of war ground on, Achilles had thought of that advice many times, especially when dealing with his father. As a child he had seen Peleus as a great king, powerful and brave. It was not an image he wanted to lose. Yet time and again he found himself making excuses for the man, for his pettiness, his cruelty, and, worse, his ability to blame others for his mistakes. Then the jealousy began. Where Peleus had been proud of Achilles’ achievements, he now began to berate his son for “stealing his glory.” Every success Achilles achieved in battle was belittled.
In the end, with Thraki taken and Hektor and his surviving men fleeing toward the eastern coasts, Peleus had relieved Achilles of command of the army and sent him with Odysseus to Naxos to bargain with King Gadelos for supplies of grain and meat.
“You want me to be a merchant?” he had asked his father, unbelieving.
“You will do as I command. Agamemnon needs food for the army. It will flatter Gadelos to have a great hero as part of the delegation.”
“And who will lead the attack on Hektor? He is no ordinary general. His mere presence is worth a hundred men.”
Peleus had reddened. “I will lead the attack. Peleus, king of Thessaly, will destroy this Trojan.”
Angry then, Achilles had spoken without thinking. “You have shown precious little appetite for battle so far, Father.”
Peleus had struck him open-handed. “Are both of my children destined to betray me?” he had shouted.
Shocked by the blow, Achilles finally had voiced the thoughts of his heart. “I loved Kalliope, and I do not believe she ever betrayed anyone.”
“You dog!” Peleus’ hand slashed out again, but this time Achilles caught his fat wrist.
“Do not ever attempt to strike me again,” he said, his voice cold.
He had seen the fear then in his father’s eyes, and the last vestiges of childhood admiration had vanished like mist in the sunshine. Peleus had licked his lips nervously and forced a smile.
“I am sorry, my son. The pressures of war… You know I value you above all men. My pride in you is colossal. But allow me a little pride, too,” he pleaded. “I will hunt down Hektor and bring us a victory. But I need you to go to Naxos. Otherwise men will say that the defeat of Hektor was because of you. Do this for me!”
Saddened and sickened by the wheedling tone, Achilles had stepped back. “I will do as you bid, Father. It will be good to get away from here for a while, and I enjoy the tales of Odysseus.”
“The man is a fat braggart, worthless and vain. Do not listen too closely to his lies, boy.”
Achilles had ignored the comment.
“Remember, Father, that Hektor is a warrior without peer. When you corner him, it will be a fight to the death. There can be no withdrawal, no pulling back. The man is a lion. Once you grab his tail, only one of you will walk away alive.”
Achilles had left the following day, traveling on the Bloodhawk, the sleek war galley manned by Ithakan sailors, veterans who had served Odysseus for many years. Achilles had tried to be friendly with the men, but as always, they were in awe of him, treating him respectfully and keeping their distance.
The days at sea and the enforced idleness at first had left him tense and bored, but gradually he had relaxed and had begun to see why the Great Green held such fascination for sailors. The vast eternal sea freed the mind from petty thoughts and vain ambitions.
Now, as he sat on the beach at Naxos, listening to Odysseus, he realized that he had no great desire to return to Thraki or even to fight in the war against Troy. A part of him wished merely to be a sailor, an oarsman, traveling the sea.
Odysseus concluded his tale to thunderous applause, and the listeners cried out for more.
“Too old and tired to go on,” Odysseus told them, then strode away to a cookfire.
Achilles saw several soldiers approach him. In the conversation that followed Achilles saw Odysseus turn as still as a statue, and he wondered what was being said. Others of the crew gathered around. Achilles saw Odysseus glance across at him. Obviously, some important news was being imparted. Achilles thought of walking across to join the men, but at that moment Odysseus strode away from them, moving toward him. Achilles rose to greet him.
Odysseus looked shocked. His face was gray, and there was sweat on his face. He looked into Achilles’ eyes and sighed. “There is word of your father’s battle with Hektor,” he told the warrior.
Achilles could tell from his expression that the news was not good. “Is he dead?”
“Yes. I am sorry, lad. Hektor destroyed him and his army at a place called Carpea.”
Odysseus fell silent. Achilles looked away, staring out over the night sea.
“I feared this,” he said softly. “I tried to warn him, but he was hungry for glory. Did he die well?”
Odysseus shrugged. “I did not hear all the details. But you must get back. King Gadelos is still neutral. Tomorrow we will see if he can spare a galley to take you north.”
“You will not be returning with me?”
Odysseus shook his head. “There was other news, Achilles. I must return to Ithaka immediately.”
He looked into the ashen face of the old king and knew then that it was not the death of Peleus that had stunned him. Odysseus seemed to have aged ten years.
“What has happened, my friend?”
“A pirate fleet with several hundred warriors has invaded Ithaka. They have taken my Penelope.”
Achilles said nothing for a moment. His warrior’s mind focused on the problem.
“You have only forty men,” he said. “We must request aid from the Kretan galleys or find willing warriors on the mainland.”
Odysseus shook his head. “The Kretans have orders to patrol the seas around Naxos. Only a direct order from King Idomeneos could change that. And he is far away, fighting near Little Thebe.”
“So you will go against them with but a single ship?”
Odysseus’ eyes blazed. “Penelope is the love of my heart and the light of my life. I will sail at dawn.”